


Blue Skies and Private Eyes

by BlueFluorine



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, F/F, Mystery, Post-Canon, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 22:36:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15350241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFluorine/pseuds/BlueFluorine
Summary: The crime-solving time-traveling duo is back in the Bay! Max gets a job with a Private Investigator and Chloe learns to live a life after death. While Max is away solving a suspicious robbery, Chloe is taken hostage in an unexpected bank heist. It's a race against time and temper as Max fights to solve both of their cases before the heist claims casualties. A Detective Max story.





	Blue Skies and Private Eyes

**A/N: Welcome to my second LiS story! This is a followup to my first fic Blue Skies but it's not absolutely necessary to have read it to read this sequel. There are only a handful of minor OC's. The important bit to know is that Max and Chloe are back to solving mysteries together! As always, constructive feedback is helpful and much appreciated.**

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Hitch in the Heist**

* * *

_December 2009_

"Is it there?" a voice crept in cautiously.

A head shook silently. His eyes narrowed. A discontented sigh.

"Wait."

A few moments of tense silence. The owner of the first voice glanced around himself nervously, waiting for the walls of the van to tear to shreds from gunfire to reveal the lonely night sky above. But nothing happened. He moaned inwardly, wishing they would just come and  _find them already_ , so that he could at least know where they were. As if to read his silent plea, the man sitting across from him in the van glared.  _No, you don't._ He almost scoffed as he agreed in his head.

_No, I don't_.

He returned his attention to the man at the computer whose eyes remained narrowed.

"How long, do you think?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he immediately regret asking. Computer Man faced him slowly and deliberately, jaw clenched, face set.

"We're going to wait as long as it fucking takes, got it? We're going to do this right—which means my way—unless you have half a mil' I could pull out from your ass."

He sneered at the 'ass' remark and didn't miss a beat when he obscenely lifted his rear to the man and replied, "Wanna come check?"

Computer Man lashed out with his foot at Talkative Man's ass, but missed and hit his thigh instead. Talkative Man pushed back, while Computer Man continued to kick out, frustrated he missed the first time.

The driver up front whirled around and glared daggers at the entire circus in the backseat. "Shut the fuck up, all of you! Do you want us to get caught with  _him_ in the back?" he said as he jabbed a thumb at the bound figure with a bag covering his face.

Computer Man and Talkative Man settled down a bit as they remembered the fourth person in the back of the van with them. He sat on the floor with his knees drawn to his chest, his hands zip-tied under his legs. His wrists were chaffed and bloodied where the sharp plastic had cut into his skin, and so were his ankles which were also bound. There was a cloth sack of some sorts placed over his entire head as a blindfold. A cold sweat had seeped into his shirt, darkening it at the neck.

At the mention of his presence, he stirred slightly. His head turned to see where the sound was coming from. Even with the bag on his head obscuring his face, his panic was self-evident. Talkative Man clicked his tongue and gestured to him in vain.

"Where we dumping him?" he asked with a pointed thumb.

"12th and Redding," the Driver said.

Talkative Man sucked on his teeth and thought to himself, mouthing the words  _12th and Redding_  over and over to himself. Finally his eyebrow raised as he replied to the Driver, "The warehouse right?" Without waiting for a response he continued, "Then you'd better watch that blind alley by 13th for cops or else they'll have us front and back like a ' _we-fucked-up_ ' sandwich. I suggest we head north first and then swing back through 13th to get eyes on the alley-"

The Driver interrupted sharply, "I  _know_  what to watch for," he sneered, "because  _I'm_  the driver on this job! Your job from now on is to shut the fuck up and make sure the kid doesn't escape."

Talkative Man glanced back at the bound figure. "The kid ain't goin' nowhere," he said smugly.

"Then shut the fuck up."

Talkative Man nodded his head with resentment while looking over at Computer Man, almost expecting some kind of pithy remark or smirk. When he received neither, he hung his head.

The moments that followed were even more silent than before, with Talkative Man's absence of comments to fill the tense void. Computer Man finally broke the silence with a low whistle.

"I think we got it," he said slowly.

Talkative Man was over his shoulder in an instant. "You think? Where is it?"

Computer Man recoiled slightly at the sudden intrusion of personal space, but quietly pointed a finger to the computer screen where a simple chat box spelled a phrase:  _"Pigs in a blanket."_

"Does he have it?" the Driver asked.

"Yeah. It looks like we're good to go."

"Good. Buckle up, you two. We're going for a ride," the Driver said before they pulled away.

As they drove off, Talkative Man and Computer Man finally seemed like they were getting along, exchanging wolfish grins and handshakes. The bound figure in the corner looked fearfully between the two men, though the two didn't seem to even notice his presence. Perhaps that was for the best.

The Driver was sitting pretty and smug until he looked out his side mirror and saw a black sedan with tinted windows following them intently. He sped up the car a bit and their tail followed suit. In the mirror he could make out only a single person in the driver's seat. He glared at the mirror and adjusted it to get a better view. "Unmarked car tailing us," he informed the passengers.

Talkative Man and Computer Man exchanged worried glances.

"Cops?" Talkative Man exclaimed.

"Why would they hit us after the transfer but before we finished the drop?" Computer Man returned equally surprised.

"Hell if I know. But we have one on our tail!" Driver grunted. The van lurched forward as he jammed on the gas.

The unmarked car followed closely behind, threatening to overtake them. The Driver was skillful in his maneuvering, always staying ahead and not allowing the car to pass.

"He's a persistent little fucker, huh?" the Driver muttered angrily as he swerved around a car.

Up ahead was a stretch of one-way street that was packed sidewalk to sidewalk with stopped cars. The Driver gritted his teeth as he realized he was headed straight down a dead-end. The row of unmoving red lights angered him like a bull staring down a matador. A quick glance at his mirrors. The unrelenting headlights in his mirror slowly grew brighter. The cop was still following him.

He charged.

A quick maneuver to his right and he jumped the curb, throwing everyone off their seats. A bang and a few loud shouts in the back of the van. He grunted as the van screeched back down the curb and picked up speed again. Tires burning on rubber soon followed behind them as the cop tried to follow. Instead, the cop jumped the curb, lost control, and got stuck on a fence. The Driver pulled a sharp right at the end of the block and made like hell down the street.

That single car was gone but the Driver knew the chase wasn't over. By this time in the chase the Driver had expected half the police department to descend upon them like vultures on a 2-week old carcass. Instead, there was only that single car. No one came to help. Had they really lost their only tail? Not wanting to curse his luck he shrugged it off.

A short while later and the fuel light blinked on. He could've sworn he filled up the tank right before they left. The Driver had to squint to make sure he wasn't seeing things wrong. The fuel light was definitely blinking, and the van was definitely slowing.

"We have a problem. I'm almost out of gas," he warned the back.

"Did you fill it up? You said you filled it up!" Talkative Man exclaimed.

"I did! We must've busted the fuel line when we jumped the curb back there. I can make it to the park but we have to ditch."

"What do we do with the kid?" Computer Man asked.

The Driver didn't answer.

They barely made it to the park before the engine shut off completely. The Driver got out of the front and headed around back, checking his surroundings before throwing open the back doors. He froze.

Talkative Man was hunched up in his seat while Computer Man had his hands on the kid's throat. The Driver quickly realized he wasn't throttling the kid, he was checking his pulse.

"What's going on?" he murmured.

Talkative Man shook his head in his seat repeatedly. His eyes were closed as if to block out seeing what had just happened. Computer Man pulled the hood off of the kid. He sat there unmoving, head sagged into his chest. It didn't rise and fall with nervousness or anxiety. It was still.

Computer Man was the one who finally answered.

"He's dead."

"What?" the Driver hissed.

"He must've hit his head in the escape," he explained. "I don't…there's nothing we can do."

The Driver stared at the kid for a moment. There was a large gash on the back of his head where blood dripped down his neck into his shirt. His dark matted hair was thick and wet with his own blood. He had seemed lifeless before when in captivity but now…

The Driver nodded his head solemnly. "Alright. Pack your gear. Wipe it down. We're moving."

Computer Man moved to retrieve his things but Talkative Man sat still on the bench. Computer man brushed past him to retrieve his things and cast a quick glance at him. Still shaking his head with his eyes closed, he was mouthing the words " _no…no…no…"_  to himself. He looked worriedly at The Driver, who folded his arms sternly.

"Hey. Pack it up."

Talkative Man finally stopped still. He raised his head to look at the lifeless body in front of him. He leaned back and sighed heavily.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this, man," he said with melancholy tone. Now it was the Driver's turn to look worriedly at Computer Man.

"Not like this," he continued to himself. "We got the kid, we got the money, we give him back, but now…" he trailed off.

The Driver stepped forward and put his hand on the solemn man's shoulder. "I know it wasn't supposed to go down like this but…shit happens. Now, pack your stuff and let's get the hell out of here before those cops find us, yeah?"

Talkative Man smiled ruefully. He glanced at his partners before settling his eyes on the kid. His expression dropped and his eyes turned hollow. He seemed to roll an absent thought around his mouth with his tongue before clenching his jaw and swallowing it.

He lifted a hand to the bottom of his head, a pistol barrel pointed heavenward, and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot shook the van and reverberated off its battered aluminum interior turned a ghastly red. The remaining two kidnappers had both flinched and jumped a step back when they saw the unexpected gun and hadn't even opened their eyes to see the trigger being pulled.

Talkative Man collapsed sideways off his chair and lay utterly still.

In the barely audible distance, Oregon State Police cruisers wailed their sirens in search of a battered van containing three kidnappers and the thirteen year old Logan Jeffrey.

* * *

_March 2014_

The weapon Max held in her hand was a double-action Smith & Wesson M&P Model-10. The design of the piece was as ancient as her great grandfather; a timeless classic, having been in service all the way from the year 1899, but the power behind it spoke little of its old age. Each round of 147 grain-.38 special fired from its 4-inch barrel delivered 264 foot-pounds of energy behind it.

Suffice it to say, it was deadly at close range.

She lifted this weapon now, the 34.4 ounce machine of carbon steel and wood barely swaying in front of her vision. Front sight lined perfectly with rear sight and she pulled back on the trigger slowly as to not disturb them.

A loud crack, followed by the thud of a bullet, then a disappointed sigh.

"Goddammit."

Max smirked at the girl on her left whose remark had confirmed her own defeat. Chloe grimaced next to her as she mashed the button on the side panel. The target paper lazily drifted toward them as the overhead motors buzzed. Max caught it and pulled it from its hooks before it could come to a complete stop, eager to hold her work. She held up the large sheet up to the light, marveling.

A single beam of light pierced through a hole punched directly into the center of the target rings. Bullseye.

"If my last few shots didn't pull to the left..." Chloe mused aloud.

"Yeah, well... shit happens."

It was a little game they had begun to play regularly since the start of winter quarter. A trip to the range wasn't cheap though. Luckily David's longstanding friendship with the owner scored them free membership, allowing the girls to hone their skills on a weekly basis. They would take turns trying to outshoot each other, bullseye's counting the most with the point value decreasing towards the outer circle. Their bets were usually small, a meal here and there, or movie tickets with popcorn.

More than pride or prizes though, they played this game out of necessity.

Months ago when Max had lost all hope after sacrificing Chloe, a strange force of nature had collided two separate timelines: this one where Chloe had been given to save Arcadia Bay, and another where Max had given herself to take Chloe's place. It was then that Max and Chloe learned of the deeper darker connection between the Prescott Foundation and Nathan's unchecked psychosis. In retaliation for not dropping the case, the Foundation sent after them hit men who nearly paralyzed Max in a car crash. Though the pair survived the whole ordeal and won justice for Rachel and her family, they had learned that the world was much bigger than they realized, and much more dangerous.

Now without their powers they sought to defend themselves through good old fashioned gunpowder-propelled lead. And so they switched from punching holes in space-time to punching holes through target paper.

Halfway through emptying the revolver's spent casings, Chloe smacked her forehead with her palm.

"Damn! I almost forgot! I'm supposed to go to the bank with David today. We're going in to discuss student loans."

"For school?" Max returned excitedly.

"Yup. For a few more years of torturous school." She laughed as she recalled how David had once told her years ago that she could actually be good with cars if she put her mind to it. She continued, "So far I've heard back from a few schools, and I've made it to all of them."

"Chloe, that's great!"

Chloe shuffled her feet a bit, clearly not as enthused as Max was. "I guess. But I'm just worried about money right now. Student loans suck ass, and I'd hate to have to go to someone like Frank or something."

"Want me to go with you?" Max replied hopefully.

"And crash my one on one time with David?"

"Well, in that case…"

"Jesus, I was kidding, Max! I mean, sure we get along better, but he's still learning. I'm still learning," she added.

Just then, Max's phone buzzed with a call. _Alexander Rogers_. Chloe groaned as Max answered, realizing that she was probably going to have to go to the bank without her.

"Hello?"

Cheery as usual, Alex greeted warmly, "Hey, Max! Are you busy right now?"

Max glanced at Chloe with a raised eyebrow, but Chloe silently waved her off. Max mouthed the question,  _"Are you sure?"_  to which Chloe nodded resolutely. With a soft sigh, Max went back to the phone.

"No, I'm free. Got another case?"

"Sharp as ever. ABPD gave me a call because their hands are full."

Max's voice went up a bit in hopeful excitement upon hearing that the police had given Alex the case. "ABPD?"

Alex sounded disappointed as he replied, "Sorry, this one won't be too exciting. Just your friendly neighborhood B&E."

Max was equally disappointed. She was about to comment on Alex's definition of "friendly neighborhood" but was cut off by the sound of several gunshots in a row. She flinched a bit, still not used to the sound. Alex's voice jumped up on the other end, obviously concerned.

"Max! Were those gunshots? What the hell-"

Max hastily interrupted, " It's fine, Alex. I'm at the range. "

His voice returned to his usual calm. "Oh. The shooting range. Right. Do you need me to pick you up?"

Max glanced at Chloe, who shook her head and pointed to herself. She grinned and walked out to the parking lot, keys in hand.

"Nope. Chloe can take me."

"Is she staying on scene?" Alex sounded almost apprehensive, but Max couldn't tell.

"No, she's going to be busy."

"Aw, that's a shame. I was looking forward to playing bad-cop worse-cop."

Max snickered as she followed Chloe to the car.

…

They pulled up to the house, a quiet looking home in the center of a quiet street. Max instantly recognized Alex's car parked out front. Chloe put the car in park and unlocked the door for Max, who leaned over to give her a quick peck on the cheek before jumping out of the car.

"Have fun, be safe, and call me when you're done!" Chloe called after her.

"You sound like my mother," Max shot back feigning annoyance.

"Well  _someone_  has to love you," Chloe quipped back.

As Max walked down to the house, she turned back at Chloe with a confident grin and a wave. Chloe winked in reply. She turned around the truck and headed for the bank. With the fading grumble of Chloe's truck, the street was left with only the sound of the gentle breeze flowing through the trees.

The birds were chirping and the sun was out: a perfectly fine day to commit a robbery.

Alexander Rogers: equal parts goofball and businessman, the private investigator had built up a reputation for himself as one of Arcadia Bay's sharpest minds when it came to detective work. While good friendships and favors with a handful of cops certainly helped in sticky situations, his ability to talk himself into or out of anything was unmatched. Max's own intellect and bravery against the Prescott's Foundation did not go unnoticed by Alex however, and he quickly offered her a position as an apprentice private investigator. While his initial proposal was only for her to photograph crime scenes, he knew that her natural detective skills would slowly surface and edge their way onto the forefront of their investigations. In fact, it was only after the second case where Max went from timidly taking pictures only as commanded to nearly running the investigation by herself.

She hated to admit it, but Alex was right from the start: she definitely had the chops to be a P.I.

Max had first encountered Alex after having been approached by Tamara Nelson, an ambitious State Attorney who had hoped that she would testify in Rachel and Chloe's murder cases in effort to bring down the Foundation. Only after learning that Tamara was actually working for the Prescott Foundation was Max forced to finish the job on her own, though she came up short. In the end however Tamara was the missing link of proof they needed, and she turned herself in. She is currently still engaged to Alex.

Other than Alex's prowess in the investigative field, Max realized she could only make guesses as to who the man behind the magnifying glass really was. His longstanding engagement to Tamara despite her questionable past and rocky turnaround spoke to his loyalty, but Tamara's account of his own shifty ethics in his line of work gave rise to second guesses. He was good with guns, locks, and computers, which suggested some kind of training, though legal or not, Max was unsure. She paused to consider what he might've done in his spare time, but no life outside of researching for cases or running about in the field seemed to exist for Alex.

It was as if his entire existence revolved solely around, or perhaps even, was created exclusively for, solving the mysteries of others.

She had to wonder,  _does it ever get lonely like that?_ The brief question was quickly followed by memories of her own adventures with Chloe: home behind and the world ahead, with all the mysteries in the world to solve.

_If you're with the right person, maybe never._

Max rapped on the window of Alex's car. Alex glanced up from his notes and beamed, opening the door.

"Glad you could make it, Max. I hope I wasn't interrupting your date with Chloe," he offered with a smile.

"No," Max replied casually, "She was going to leave soon anyway. Appointment at the bank to discuss loans."

"For that automechanic school, right?"

Max nodded.

Alex let out a low whistle. "Girl like her, I always though she would hate school."

Max laughed. "Oh, believe me, she still does. Say, where did you go to school?"

"I didn't go to school, or at least not in the traditional sense," Alex replied quickly.

"Really?" Max asked with raised eyebrows. "Then what did you do?"

Alex gave a wry grin. "Actually, I was a cop."

Max gaped. "A cop?" After recovering from her surprise, she shook her head at herself. "I should've known, given the way you investigated all of those cases. You went straight to the Academy?"

"Uh huh," Alex nodded.

Well that solved one mystery of the enigma that was Alex. An ex-cop turned private investigator. It made sense.

They reached the front door of the house, which was strangely intact for a B&E. Alex was already scouting the area, looking for possible clues.  _No broken windows_ , Max noticed. Alex stooped down to examine the welcome mat. He lifted its corners, revealing the dirty concrete beneath it. Though his fingers brushed over the ground thoughtfully, Max couldn't see anything that really stood out to her. Alex looked almost amused as he rose to his feet. He pressed the doorbell and waited.

"Why'd you stop being a cop?" Max asked suddenly.

Alex's usually calm expression faltered for the briefest of moments. His shoulders tensed slightly, but quickly relaxed as his expression normalized. His mouth opened slightly as if to delve into lengthy explanation, but his lips pressed firmly together. The corners of his mouth turned up, almost ruefully, at Max.

The door swung open in rude interruption revealing a woman, who appeared to be no older than her early thirties, standing in the doorway. Her hair was messy and her shirt a little oversized, which also didn't match her baggy sweatpants.  _Pajamas_ , Max noted.  _And a late sleeper too, by the time and the looks of her hair._

Alex spoke first. "Hello, I'm Alex Rogers, private investigator."

The woman was halfway through rolling her eyes when she instinctively pressed against the door, narrowing the opening. She was visibly upset. "God, I told them...!"

"Ma'am?" Alex said with a raised eyebrow. "I understand there was a break in recently?"

"Since when do P.I.'s like you do break-ins?" she asked accusatorily.

"The ABPD reached out to me to help look into your case, and I was hoping we could work together on this one." He held out his hand.

The woman looked at the outstretched appendage suspiciously before finally grasping it and shaking. "Janine," was her terse reply. She cocked her head to the inside of the house and disappeared inside. Alex turned aside at Max and shrugged.

The living room was completely ransacked. Tables, boxes, and shelves were all overturned with their contents strewn about. There were small patches of clearing in the floor where Janine had tried to make room to walk through the house, though they were not plentiful. When Max finally tiptoed to the kitchen, she saw that even the silverware drawers were yanked from their sockets.

Alex took everything in with the composure of a trained private eye. Max could see his brain chugging away, rattling down different clues in order to piece together a story. When Alex noticed Max's intent gaze, he nodded to her.

"Pictures, Max."

Max removed the fancy digital camera from the bag around her neck. As she was setting up the camera and its lenses, Janine looked over at Max worriedly.

"Whoa, what's she doing?"

"Pictures," Alex returned calmly. "Of the crime scene. I hope you don't mind."

"I'd rather you not, but..." Janine sighed and threw her hands up in a gesture of surrender. Alex's eyes narrowed at her peculiar response. Max began to snap away.

He pulled out a small notepad. "Janine, do you mind telling me about the break in?"

She let out an exasperated sigh and rested her hands on her hips. "Look, it's going to be impossible to find out who did this. I didn't want to bother the police."

Alex gave a wide grin. "Lucky for you, I'm not the police."

Janine was none too amused by Alex. "Lucky for me, I wasn't home when this happened. I came home with my boyfriend this morning and the place was a wreck. About 9 o'clock."

Alex was jotting this down in a notebook. "And what time did you leave the house last night?"

"About 6, I think. We went out to dinner and I stayed the night at his place."

"Your boyfriend, what's his name? And I'm going to need his address."

"His name is Martin and he's at 2560 Alpine Street. Actually, he's right upstairs on the phone with insurance. But why's that important?"

Alex chewed the end of his pen as he gazed at the family room wall, apparently lost in thought. Max paused from taking pictures as she detected the unusual break in the conversation. Janine looked expectantly at him and waited for him to respond. When he didn't, she glanced over at Max as if she could provide answers. Max's eyebrows furrowed as she in turn looked back at Alex.

"Alex?" she began.

He gestured with the chewed end of his pen at the wall he was so engrossed with. On the wall was mounted a large flat screen television, no smaller than a 60-incher. The one thing that stood out more than the imposing size was the equally large hole in its center. Someone, presumably the robbers, had taken a large blunt instrument and went to town on the poor piece of consumer electronics. The spiderweb pattern of shattered glass stretched out from the hole, and something made Max guess that Best Buy wouldn't accept a return.

Alex, who held steady his gaze with the TV as if blinking would cause it to vanish altogether, approached it slowly. When he reached the TV, he observed it just as intently as he did from afar. He knelt down and opened the media cabinet that was underneath the TV. Nothing inside looked touched, not even the Xbox that was in pristine condition. He huffed as he rose to his feet.

"What did you say was stolen?" he said, scratching his head.

"A few thousand dollars."

"Now was that in cash or property?"

Janine seemed to shift uncomfortably. "All cash," she nodded finally. "But maybe property too, because I haven't finished looking around yet," she added quickly. Alex drummed his pen on his notepad with a nod and a " _hmm_ " before he continued his notes. A quick glance to Max meant she was to remember this note on her own.

"And you don't have any idea who could've done this?" he asked casually.

She shook her head. "I told you, it's a random burglary. You're wasting your time."

"Maybe," Alex muttered under his breath. In a much more optimistic tone, he concluded, "Hey, you know what? We're here anyway. You said you were with your boyfriend, right? I would like to speak with him now."

Janine beckoned to follow her. "Come on."

"Excellent," Alex announced as he clapped his hands together rather dramatically. "Max, why don't you finish up your pictures around here, and I'll meet you out by the car."

As Alex went with Janine upstairs to talk to her boyfriend, he cast the quickest of knowing looks over his shoulder towards Max. The thing was, she had finished her pictures of the entire room a while ago and Alex knew this. It was a cue that Alex thought something was fishy and needed Max to scour the place without Janine's watchful eye. It was a tactic he had devised and used several times before, to great effect. As soon as the sound of retreating footsteps faded, Max got to work.

First off was the kitchen. Janine definitely didn't seem the type to collect valuable antique silverware, so why ransack the kitchen? Max walked over to the kitchen and stood in the center of the dark granite countertops. From her vantage point in the kitchen she had a clear view of the demolished TV. All around her, silverware and other dishes were strewn about. Most of the drawers were upside down and completely emptied.  _The robber was definitely looking for something specific._

She went to the media cabinet next. By the way Alex had stared so intently at the TV, she knew something must be off. Alex made a point of opening the cabinet, so that was where she started. The Xbox was completely untouched, along with a shoebox full of games next to it.  _I_ _f this was a robbery, why not take the Xbox or the TV?_ That was certainly suspicious.

There was a desk nearby, halfway between the dining room and the family room. Papers and folders were scattered about, just as expected. Receipts, bank statements, mortgages, and the like. There was a small plastic desk organizer on top of the desk's surface that had several levels. While the bottom two bins were pulled out with their contents spilling out, the topmost one was completely gone. Max looked around the mountain of mess but didn't find it at all.  _Maybe that's where their cash was?_ Just in case she needed to review any of the files, Max took out her camera and hastily snapped a few copies of bank statements and the other documents. Now this was definitely questionable, but questionable was Alex's specialty. Since Janine had invited them into her home, allowed her to take pictures, and left the documents out in the open, they were fair game. Or at least, that's what Alex had always told her.

Footsteps descending down the stairs alerted Max to Janine's reappearance. She quickly put down the files and started taking pictures of the whole room to seem occupied. Alex called over from the foyer and Max followed.

As Max approached the front area, she saw Alex next to Janine with a second man in the background, most likely Janine's boyfriend. He was quite tall, maybe a few inches taller than Alex, and his muscular build said " _don't mess with me."_  His attempt at a grateful smile made him seem friendly enough though, to these two investigators who had taken on the task of tracking down an anonymous robber. Alex was shaking hands with him as Janine ushered the two to the door.

Alex handed over a business card as he lingered in the doorway. "If you remember anything else, any little detail at all, give me a call, alright?" he said pleasantly. Janine nodded with a blank expression as she closed the door after them.

The front door lock turned with a click, and Alex and Max headed back to the car.

"Well that was weird," Max began.

Alex nodded with raised eyebrows. "Weird is one way of putting it."

"Janine didn't seem too happy to see us," Max noted.

Alex nodded again. "But Martin seems like a reasonable guy," he replied.

"Did you really need to talk to him?" Max asked.

Alex grinned that same goofy grin Max had grown to find confidence in.

"No," he stated simply. "I'll tell you in the car."

* * *

The moment they stepped foot into the bank, she knew something was off. A line, whose length resembled that of a certain fruit-themed tech giant's on a product release day, snaked and stretched all the way to the back of the bank. Already, people were beginning to leave the bank in disappointment and frustration, shaking their heads and scoffing.

Chloe gingerly got in line after David, who had his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room.

Chloe raised an eyebrow at him. "What the hell? Did I miss 'National Bank Day' or something?"

"It's their system," a woman in front of her muttered. She turned sideways to Chloe, not quite looking at her, but addressing her all the same. "Something's wrong with the computers, and everything is taking twice as long to do."

"This line is something else, that's for sure," David quipped.

"You're tellin' me," the woman scoffed. "I've been in this same spot twenty minutes. I was supposed to open an account here, but I'm starting to have second thoughts," she added with a pained grimace.

"Jesus. I knew I should've gotten a snack before coming here," Chloe lamented.

David turned to glance out the door. "Hey, if this line is taking too long, I can just walk over to that sandwich shop across the street and get us some food while we wait."

Chloe paused and mulled it over. "That... actually sounds like a great idea."

"I'll text you the menu when I get there. Looking at this line, we'll have plenty of time to eat."

David waved in an uncharacteristically cheerful fashion as he left, leaving Chloe to put her arm up in a sort of half-standing awkward wave. She was going to stammer a response something along the lines of 'bye' or even a simple 'thanks', but the door closed before she had a chance.

"I've seen you somewhere," mused the lady unexpectedly, causing Chloe to turn to the front once more.

"What?" she asked.

The woman nodded slowly as she remembered. "A few months ago, on the news. You're the girl who died. I mean...supposedly died."

Chloe shifted uncomfortably in place, her arms crossed a bit tighter around herself. She was immediately more self conscious as she looked around the room.

"You remembered that?" She replied as she ran a hand down the back of her neck nervously. Instantly she knew by asking that question she had confirmed her identity to the woman, to her slight chagrin.

A grin rose on the woman's face. "Biggest piece of Arcadia Bay news in the last 30 years, and believe me, I've been around to see it," she added with a chuckle. She added further while pointing, "It's your colored hair. You'd be just about the only girl around these parts daring enough to do it."

"I...I mean, yeah, I guess that was me," She cracked a faint smile while trying to keep her voice low.

_Don't introduce yourself..._ Chloe pleaded internally.

The woman stuck her hand out excitedly. "Danielle."

_Fuck._

Chloe hesitated as she shook the woman's hand. "Er, Chloe. But I guess you already knew that..."

In a way, Chloe understood the woman's reaction to meeting someone "famous" but still couldn't quite grasp it. She had become famous for dying, and living through all that fame after the fact wasn't something most people were able to do. Being celebrated as "that girl who died" certainly wasn't the same as being a teenage pop icon. It was incredibly morbid, if anything.

Despite trying to match Chloe's lowered voice, the woman's words were still brimming with excitement upon meeting a bona-fide Arcadia Bay celebrity. "Can I just say something? What you did there was just... I can't even describe it! All I can say is, hot damn, you've got guts! Like father, like son, and you took both those scumbags down! Really wanted to stick it to the man, eh? Fight the power and give it back to-"

"Look, it wasn't like that, alright?" Chloe snapped harshly. The excitement faded from the woman's face as guilt crept over Chloe's. Some of the other bank patrons had picked up on the sudden outburst and turned to see what the commotion was, which only made things worse for Chloe. She stammered an apology as they turned back to their business.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine," the woman mumbled as she glanced away.

_Great. I snapped._

Chloe sighed as she tried to explain herself out of looking like a complete ass. "Rachel was my best friend, and seeing what he did to her... what  _they_  did to her, I knew I couldn't just stand by and watch. I wasn't hunting for revenge, and frankly I didn't even care who they were. I only wanted justice."

The woman nodded solemnly. "It's a fine line to walk, but you look like someone who has it figured out."

Inwardly Chloe breathed a sigh of relief at the woman's levelheaded response to her snappy reaction.

_I'm the girl who died. Fucking hell._

* * *

"Alright, Max. Quiz time," Alex announced like a game show host to the entire car, which actually only consisted of the two of them. "Question 1: Janine was acting kinda weird."

Max paused as she opened her mouth to answer. "Uh, that's not a question," she hesitated.

"You know what I mean," Alex smirked.

"Why was she acting weird?" Max filled in for Alex. With Alex's questioning glance that prompted her to answer, Max laid out her observations. "Well she didn't want us looking around much, that's for sure."

"Uh huh," Alex agreed. "Saw how squirrely she got when you started taking pictures? My guess is that she knows more than she's letting on. Actually you know what? Let's skip the questions. I just want to see what you saw."

Max shifted in her seat and tried to remember everything she had mentally put down. "The TV was smashed to bits but the Xbox right under it was untouched."

"Good, you noticed the TV."

"All the kitchen drawers were pulled open, which makes me think that this person wasn't looking for cash. He was looking for something specific."

Alex nodded more enthusiastically this time. "Very good. Anything else?"

"I…I'm not sure. The desk area was a mess and all the files were scattered. It looked like the robber spent a lot of time there. But besides that, I'm not really sure."

"Pretty good, Max. Pretty good. But there's a few things you missed."

"Alright, let's have it," Max said with a laugh.

"You noticed the Xbox and the TV, but did you see the shoebox with the games?" Alex questioned.

"Yeah. None of it was taken."

"The shoebox," Alex pressed.

_It was just a shoebox full of games, right?_  She had already mentioned the TV so she was close, but not quite there.  _Was it the brand of the shoebox? Something hidden inside it I didn't see?_ There had to be something with the shoebox but right now she just couldn't see it. She sighed and resigned herself to Alex's explanation.

"Alright, I'm stumped. What about the shoebox?"

Alex didn't seem disappointed as he explained, which was nice. "Those were Nike men's running shoes. Size 9."

"Martin's?" Max asked.

Alex shook his head. "Martin was a pretty big guy and he wore at least size 13. Definitely not his."

"Then whose shoes came from that box?"

"My guess? Janine's last boyfriend who used to live with her."

"So you're saying the robber could've targeted Janine as revenge," Max concluded.

"Possibly. Or I think it's safe to say that she knew the person and felt guilty about turning him in. It was probably Martin who convinced her to finally call the police."

"Finally?" Max questioned.

"They claimed they were out all night and didn't get back until morning. But what did you see by the table in the foyer?"

Max closed her eyes as she fought to remember the details. "A bowl…a wooden bowl? With keys and wallets," she managed. "Wallets," she realized as she opened her eyes.

"If you came home and realized you were robbed, do you think you would leave your things out anymore? It's a gut reaction when we see our safety being violated. I'll bet that those wallets and keys were sitting there all night. There's no way they came home to a robbery and put their things down like normal."

Max followed his train of thought and concluded, "Then they never left. And that means they were home at the time of the robbery...which also means that Janine and Martin probably saw whoever it was but took a while to call the police. Your scorned ex theory is starting to shape up," Max noted, impressed.

"Thank you. But that's just one of my theories. The second is much more obvious, and if I may say so, a bit boring."

"Obvious?"

"Janine didn't want to waste time with the police but was okay with getting the runaround from insurance? Smashed TV but a pristine Xbox? Hell of a coincidence, if you ask me."

"Insurance fraud," Max finished.

"The Xbox makes it obvious. It's right underneath the smashed TV, so how'd the robber miss it? Martin probably took a bat to the TV but couldn't bring himself to destroy his games."

"Wow," Max sighed as she rested back in her seat. "Finishing a case like that before the car ride is up? That's gotta be a record for you."

"It's still all conjecture," Alex dismissed humbly. "I'll need those pictures you took of her bank statements to see if they're really in debt. In the case of the scorned ex, I'll just ask around Janine's workplace, see what her friends know."

...

When they got back to the office Max popped out the memory card from Alex's fancy camera and began transferring the pictures to her computer. About halfway through the transfer, her phone rang. It was Chloe.

"Hey, Chloe. What's up?"

Chloe grumbled on the other line. "If I have to hear another peep from anyone about any sort of money, finance, or accounting, I swear, I'm going to shoot someone."

Max raised her eyebrows. "First of all, you're in a bank, so your chances are pretty high. Second of all, how'd it go?"

"Not even done yet," she moaned. "There was something about their system crashing, so everything is taking twice as long to do. The only good thing that's going to come out of this is the food that David's bringing back from that sandwich shop across the street. But enough about my problems. I called because I was  _sooo_  bored. How's the case? Interesting, I hope?"

"Well the ABPD gave this one to us, a standard B&E that looks like a random hit."

"And was it?"

"I don't think so. We found some weird pieces of evidence that gave us two theories so far. It's either "scorned ex gets revenge" or insurance fraud."

"Well I'm glad one of us is having fun. I just wish that David would hurry with those sandwiches..."

There was a loud slam of metal on metal coming from the front doors of the bank when a man wearing a surgical mask and sunglasses began firing a machine gun into the ceiling.

_"Everyone, get down on the fucking ground, now!"_

The rapid staccato of gunfire filled and echoed through the bank. Screams of terror and panic arose from the terrified patrons who began scrambling for cover.

Max heard the noises and her heart skipped a beat. "Chloe? What's happening? What's going on?"

Chloe didn't have time to answer. In addition to the man in the front barking orders, she saw two more men circle around the sides brandishing their weapons. She kept low below the desks as she crept towards the back of the bank. Around her, some of the patrons were already facedown with their hands over their heads, too petrified to move a muscle. Some of them glanced up as they saw Chloe crouch by, but none said anything.

"Chloe!" Max repeated.

Chloe whispered back after settling behind a desk. "It's a goddamn bank heist! I'm in the middle of a fucking bank heist!"

"Are you okay?" Max asked worriedly.

"Yeah, sure," Chloe muttered as she looked around from her vantage spot. "Listen up, I'm at the bank on Teller street. There's one... two... three guys so far. They all have masks and some fancy looking machine guns."

"I'll call the cops," Max assured her. "Just don't do anything to upset them, you got that? You're a bystander, so just play along. Alex!" she called over to the other room.

Alex poked his head out, detecting the panic in Max's voice. "What's wrong?"

"It's Chloe. She's in the middle of a bank heist," she managed to whisper.

Alex scrambled over to the phone as Max put it on speaker.

Chloe's voice continued. "They've got most everyone at the front now. They're passing around a bag... they're collecting phones and wallets."

"Can they see you?" Alex interrupted.

"No. I'm towards the back behind some cubicles. But I don't think I can stay here much longer. Fuck, what do I do?"

"Just... stay calm, alright?" Alex said in attempt to calm her. He scrambled back to his office as he directed to Max, "Keep her on the phone. I'm calling the police."

"Max, this is crazy! I...I don't know what to do! Tell me what to do!" A crack in Chloe's voice sent daggers through Max's heart.

She struggled to steady her own voice. "Chloe, listen to me. You're going to be alright. You haven't done anything to them. Don't give them any reason to hurt you. Don't be a hero, just... just survive."

In the background of Chloe's shaky breaths came a shout of "hey!" that sent chills down Max's spine.

They found Chloe.

Her breaths became more and more labored and the background grew noisier. The sound of rapid footsteps, most likely Chloe's, had begun to echo through the phone. There was the slam of a door and Chloe's breaths came back to fill the sound.

"Oh my God. They found me. They found me..." she trailed off weakly.

Max was bent over the desk and began to tremble. "Chloe, get off the phone. The cops are already coming. Don't give them any reason to hurt you!"

But the line didn't click. She could still hear Chloe's labored breathing and the sound of slower footsteps. Then there was the sound of a door opening.

"You there!" Came a loud male shout from the phone. Max couldn't hear Chloe's breathing anymore.

She was pleading now, "No, no, no! Chloe put down the phone! Put down the fucking phone!"

"Who are you calling? Did you call the cops?" the voice barked in rage.

Max was yelling with all her might, "Chloe, put down the goddamn phone!"

There was a deafening crash on the line and the call ended.


End file.
